


It's gotta be a strange twist of fate (telling me Heaven can wait)

by SpicyCheese



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Tombstone (1993) AU, Welcome to the Wild West, because I only do 90's movie AUs it seems?, tw for alcohol abuse and mention of a sig. respiratory illness I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: US Marshal Kara Zorel's plans to retire anonymously in Tombstone, Arizona are disrupted- by the kind of outlaws she is famous for eliminating, and an unexpected romance she can't help but be drawn into.This is a story of Fate, and how sometimes there's just no escaping who you're meant to be.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97
Collections: Supercorp Content Creators End of Summer Gift Exchange 2020





	It's gotta be a strange twist of fate (telling me Heaven can wait)

**Author's Note:**

> Gifting this story to the lovely and fabulous Vae! My friend, I hope you like it :)
> 
> Fic is based off the 1993 movie _Tombstone_ about Wyatt Earp, which y’all should definitely watch because it’s great. Mentioning that also because the non-English conversation is lifted directly from that, so if you feel the need to google what’s being said, that’s a hint :) Enjoy,

  
  
*-*-*-*-*

  
  


Kara removes her hat and turns her face up to the desert sky. 

She slept in and already the mid-morning sun is blazing strong. It’s hard to believe this unrelenting force, baking the earth with indiscriminate harshness, is the same as the warm, gentle one that smiled down on her back home. 

It’s just one of the many ways her new world is different than her one back in Kansas, but the past and can stay there as far as Kara is concerned.

Henry gives an annoyed huff and shakes his mane indicating that Kara has dawdled long enough. “Fine, fine,” she says, giving the horse’s neck a pat. “I hear ya.” Wiping her brow with the back of her glove, she settles the white Stetson back on her head and takes up the reins once more.

The pair trot along the red dirt road at a good clip, sun still following mercilessly, until they crest the hill. There, the town finally rises into view- a stodgy, dark blemish amidst a landscape of rusts. 

“Home sweet home,” she mutters, and nudges Henry into a proper cant as they make their way in.

Two years ago Tombstone was nothing more than a few ramshackle buildings, in the middle of a desert of nothing. Now it’s a proper town, one in which new businesses seem to spring up overnight, fueled by the silver in the nearby hills.

The town has blossomed and Kara can see it in the hustle and bustle as she rides through. Around her, mothers flock children like geese as they navigate their weekly shopping. Owners up and down the boardwalk harken them in with greetings and sales, all the while sounds of hammer and saws tap out a beat to move them along. 

What she actively tries not to notice though, is the group of men down the road. The ones stumbling out of the pool hall and into the daylight after a long evening of drinking. The ones all wearing matching red sashes around their waists.

It’s not her job to notice though. Not anymore. 

Henry steers them to their destination out of sheer rote, stopping dutifully in front of the red shuttered building, midway through town. Kara hops down and hitches him to the post there, before making her way to the barber shop across the street. 

On the other side of the gentle traffic of horseback and wagons, she sees Winn in one of the rocking chairs out front, waiting for customers. He looks up from his coffee mug at Kara’s approach, greeting her with his customary, “Morning, Marshal.”

Kara shakes her head, and takes the coffee mug offered before settling into the chair adjacent to him. “What I say about calling me that? I’m just a simple card dealer now.” 

“ _Simple,_ ” he laughs. “You’re the most famous lawman - law _person_ \- in the greater U-nited States. Nothing _simple_ there.” 

A bray of laughter down the road catches her attention. The group of red-sashed men from earlier are mounting their horses, their drunken antics unsettling those within earshot. 

“I mean, doesn’t it still drive you mad? Vultures like their gang, smelling the money here and swooping in to bully people out of it…”

“I did my duty,” Kara says, turning away from the scene, casting her eyes down at her coffee mug. “Now I'd like to get on with my life.”

“And strike it rich too I bet,” Winn hums like it’s a familiar tune. He was born and raised here in Tombstone and Kara wonders just how much _he’s_ seen the town change over the years. “Well, all right, that's fine. Tell you one thing,” he points a finger at Kara. “I never saw a rich person who didn't wind up with a guilty conscience.”

She’s about to retort, but across the street Nia stands in the doorway of their building, waving her hat at Kara, and looking right pissed. 

“Already got a guilty conscience,” Kara says, standing and gathering herself up once more. “Might as well have the money, too. I’ll see you ‘round, Winn.”

She turns to go.

And then, everything falls to pieces. 

Kara’s never known God, but she has known their other sonofabitch spawn, _Fate_ . She can recognize _him_ a mile away. So when the stagecoach rolls to a stop just shy of the barbershop, she knows whatever’s trouble inside has been delivered just for her. 

Then the carriage door opens, and Fate certainly has quite the sense of humor because out steps trouble in the form of the most stunning woman Kara has ever seen.

Dressed in the height of East Coast fashion, with porcelain skin and petticoat of striking purple, the woman is a rare wildflower that has no business here in the desert. Yet the expression she wears says otherwise. Maybe it’s the tilt of her chin- lifted just slightly- or the way her eyes scan her new landscape with an almost analytical eye- but it’s clear this woman is never an outsider. That she owns whatever town, country, plain of existence that she occupies.

And she’s walking this way.

Some reptilian part of her brain that still works, recognizes the closing proximity, but for the life of her Kara can’t seem to do anything to stop it. Or anything at all it seems. She just stands there like a house in the way of a tornado, waiting for impact.

“Excuse me,” the woman begins. “Do you know where the executive office for LuthorRails is?”

The accent nearly brings Kara to her knees. It belongs somewhere across an ocean. Someplace lush and green, where salty waves relentlessly pound into rock shores with reckless abandon. Kara understand the words, but can’t seem to formulate a response. Thankfully Winn steps up to her side. 

“Unfortunately you won’t have much luck there Ma’am,” he says, with the gentle manners escaping Kara at the moment. “Mr. Luthor passed away few weeks ago.” 

She feels more than see’s Winn glancing at her to pick up from there, but thankfully the Barber correctly picks up that Kara is still working on harnessing power of speech, and continues to take the reins. “Well, not so much ‘passed away’ as was ‘killed in a gunfight’. Their new boss supposed to be here any day.”

“Yes I know, I’m his replacement. Lena Luthor.”

“But you’re a woman.”

Clearly, Kara should’ve waited a little bit longer before attempting that whole talking thing because now both Winn and the mystery beauty are staring at her again.

“Yes,” The woman- the apparent _heiress_ \- says, bemusement playing on her lips. “That is accurate.” 

The lipstick she wears is the color of dynamite and probably cost more than every article of clothing that Kara has on. 

“Well then, let me be the first to welcome you Tombstone, Ms. Luthor,” Winn says, taking off his bowler hat with a flush. “I’m Winn Schott, barber and unofficial town historian.” He adds a fun little bow, again demonstrating a mastery of basic human interaction that may have left Kara for good. “The Luthor Rails office is the third building on the end. Next to the general store.”

“Thank you,” she replies. She moves to go but pauses first, giving Kara another glance, almost expectantly. 

Whatever she’s looking for, isn’t present at the moment though. Words continue to sieve through Kara’s brain and after a brief but torturous beat of silence, the woman nods once more to Winn before heading down the road.

Kara follows the sight a moment before a hard hand claps on her back, breaking the spell roughly. 

“Guess there is something simple about you after all,” Winn chuckles. He lays an arm to rest around her shoulders, and gives a long whistle, low whistle as he follows Kara’s line of sight. “Nice to know even the famous Kara Zorell can be brought to ruin by a beautiful woman.”

Thankfully a glance across the street finds a perfect exit to this nightmare of embarrassment; Nia with her hands on her hips, scowling. “Looks like I better go.”

“I’d say,” he winces. “But don’t think we aren’t talking about you being gobsmacked over little Ms.-”

But Kara is already shooting across the street, though it feels a bit like of the frying pan and into the fire. She gives Nia her best and brightest smile “ ‘Morning.“

“Maybe for _you_. For the rest of us it’s mid-afternoon.” She points to the clock tower nestled into the post office next door. To Kara’s surprise it reads 2:00 pm. 

Seems she slept in longer than she thought. 

“This business as a _partnership_ , you know,” Nia huffs, expression fixed in practiced exasperation. 

It’s all a front of course, Nia loves her like kin, and vice versa. She may have arrived late to their found- family, but Nia managed to slide into her and Alex‘s life like the younger sister they never had. And when Alex got sick and Kara decided to move them, Nia was already packing her boxes to join. 

“Partnership in writing, but we both know _you’re_ in charge,“ Kara grins as disarmingly as she can, but accepts the eye-roll and tray of poker chips and cards Nia gives in response just the same.

“Just get to work,” the underlying affection barely contained. “I need to go to bed. “

“Fair enough,” Kara shrugs. “Have a good night.”

“Oh, and… just so you know, Alex is inside. She has been since this morning.”

Kara’s feet stall just before the doors, and she takes a long, steadying breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Nia echoes behind her. “Take it easy on her. You know it’s just…”

Kara presses her lips together. “I know.” She pushes through the doors before the emotion can nip at her heels. 

A familiar acrid cloud of cigar smoke wraps itself around her as she steps inside. Despite it being only mid-day, there’s a fair crowd milling around the tables and the bar. One patron stands out though, of course. Alex sits at the bar, head propped up in her hands, elbows on the shiny wood surface, contemplating the small shooter of amber liquid in front of her.

There’s a stabbing feeling, like a needle right in Kara’s chest, as she notes the several empty glasses next to it. But, as Nia reminded her, Alex has her own demons. And Kara has a job to do. 

She makes her way towards the largest card table in the back, several players already seated, takes a moment to appreciate that fact. When they first arrived the Cat Company Saloon was all but deserted. A low level thug named Curly Bill had declared himself Head Dealer and had hunkered down inside like a toad; his inebriated and violent antics away all the reputable business.

To the floundering owner’s delight, Kara made short work of him, prying him up and calling a bluff the dimwitted neerdowell knew better than to challenge. That’s how Kara and Nia were dealt into, no pun intended, part ownership and have been running the tables since. 

Sliding into her chair now she sets the tray down beside her. “Howdy folks. I’ll be swapping in for Ms. Nal,” she greets. 

Hands that spent almost a decade dealing out justice, now shuffle and sort cards to the patrons before her. “What do you say fellas?” Kara asks, jovially, “Who wants to play some poker?”

  
  


*_*_*

  
  


The sun has long since set when Fate deals her a hand of trouble for the second time that day. This evening it takes the form of the two red-sashed men that walk through the door looking whiskey-soaked and mischief-dry. They peer around the room until they spot her and make their way that direction.

This is a meeting Kara’s been putting off, but as the infamous Benjamin Lockwood approaches she wishes she had chosen the ground. Caught seated, behind a card table, with dozens and dozens of innocence around, is not her preference. She pretends not to notice him standing, and focuses on dealing out winnings to the players in front of her. “Winner to the King, two hundred dollars.”

“Kara Zorel, huh?”

Kara, now looks up. Lockwood stands directly in front of her. The two people seated at the table in front of him scoot to either side, already sensing they didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever this was. 

“Lockwood,” Kara states, a fact with no impression behind it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Lockwood snears, leaning forward bracing both hands on the card table. “The BloodBelts worked hard to have things the way we like it here. We’re not interested in any Law Dogs coming up in here disrupting that. ” 

“I’m retired,” She tries to remain neutral. She knows men like Lockwood and his gang. It will be fine as long as she doesn’t escalate it with him.

“That’s good, that’s real good,“ He says leaning further forward over the table, in a tactless attempt to intimidate. “Because if you think you’re gonna-“

He goes to poke Kara in the chest for emphasis, but a hand snaps out of nowhere catching it midway. Lockwood moves to yell at its owner, but one look at Alex‘s face and his expression changes from angry to a shallow smile. “You.”

Alex let’s the finger go, flicking it away as one might a fly near their dinner. “Benji,“ she hums, enjoying his scowl at the name. “You’re looking… Tall. “

He rights himself, pushing off the table to stand. He adjusts his jacket with forced casualness. “I thought you were still out in Kansas. “

“Change of venue,” Alex says, a lazy hand tossing the air. “Doctor recommended a dry climate. “

“You must be Alex Danvers.“ The man who’s been silent at Lockwood’s side until now, steps to the table. 

“That's the rumor,” Alex drawls, turning her attention and taking another sip from the tin cup in hand.

“You retired too?” 

“Not me,” Alex deadpans. “I'm in my _prime_.”

The brim of the flat black hat hangs low over the stranger eyes, his scowl sitting shadowed underneath. Lip curled, an ugly laugh slips out. “Yeah, you look it.”

Alex most certainly did _not_ look it. Consumption was why they moved to Arizona in the first place, the dry air supposedly better for her compromised lungs. In the meantime, it was hard to breathe, Hard to do anything. Lately Alex always looked sweaty, her skin pale. Whether that was due to the physical pain or the booze she used to dull it was anyone’s guess at this point, but either way her sister not looking so good was the norm now.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance sir,” Alex states, causing Kara to cringe. Her sister has a way of talking like some erudite scholar when she is truly inebriated (which is more and more, often now). The problem of course it comes off that she’s talking down to people. To be sure, she is- at any moment in time Alex is probably the smartest person in the room- but being confronted with that so bluntly often leads to fights. Which is exactly what Kara believes her sister’s intention is. 

“Maxwell Lord,” the man says. 

“Ah yes, _Mad Max_ .” The man clenches his jaw and Kara recognizes the name. Her stomach drops because yeah, now she’s absolutely _certain_ of what’s about to happen.

“I heard you killed Fast Freddie Martin,“ Alex presses on, and Kara really wishes her sister’s tone didn’t have so much naked admiration in it. “I hear you’re quite fast actually.”

Lord’s gritty, stubbled face crinkles under his sneer. “Some say even faster than you.”

“Hmm,” Alex hums into the rip of her cup, teeth causing the slightest rattle like a snake about to strike. She tosses back the rest of the drink and places the tiny tin mug on the table with care, before locking eyes with Lord once more. “Show me.”

A hush falls over the crowd of onlookers and Kara’s hand moves, smooth and undetected, to the concealed shotgun under the card table. “She’s drunk,” Kara says, hoping to defuse. 

“ _In vino veritas_ ,” Alex shrugs, tipping back her cup to finish the contents, eyes never leaving Lord.

“ _Age quod agis_ ,” Lord replies.

Alex raises eyebrow in challenge, almost amused. “ _Credat Judaeus apella, non ego_.”

Lord places his hand evenly on his pistol, eyes never leaving Alex’s. “ _Eventus stultorum magister._ ”

The Cheshire smile that spreads across Alex’s face is entirely lacking in mirth. “By all means,” she says, moving the flap of her own coat aside to reveal her pistol. “ _In pace requiescat._ ”

“Hey hey hey, come _on_ now Y’all,” Kara interjects a little more forcibly. “We don't want any trouble in here. Not in Latin, or any other language.”

The two stare each other down a moment before Lord takes the pistol slowly out of its holster… and begins to flip it around his trigger finger. Tricks, flips, faster than Kara has seen someone go in a long time, forward- backward- spin- until finally in one smooth motion, he re-holsters it. The crowd, unsure what else to do, give a cheer, some even clap- but Kara keeps looking at Alex because this can only go one of two ways now.

Alex smiles and stands, in no way a good sign, but instead of reaching for her pistol she takes up her empty tin cup. She lifts it slowly by its handle, almost like a toast…

...then flips it around her trigger finger.

Forwards, backwards, a parody of the exact same routine as Lord’s, even ending by ‘holstering’ the cup at her right hip. The crowd cheers more in earnest this time, antics convincing them the evening won’t end in bloodshed, but Kara can tell by the wink her sister gives to Lord before sitting back down, just how close they were. 

“Well we best be moving on,” Lockwood says, giving Lord’s arm a definitive tug in that direction. “We have some ladies down the road that will be missing us if we take much longer.”

Almost sensing the very off-color quip her sister has armed, Kara stamps down on Alex’s boot under the table and instead answers, “Have a good evening, Gentleman.” 

They are barely out the saloon doors before Kara turns on her sister. “Are you seriously trying to start something?”

“This started the moment you set foot in town, Kara,” Alex says, slumped in her chair. “This thing started the moment you were born probably, and the sooner you stop running from it, the happier you’ll be.”

She sets up a little bit taller, but wobbles. “And as for me, you know I don’t start fights I don’t intend to finish. “

Without an audience, Kara can see her sister's façade of levity flagging. She looks tired, in more ways than one. “Need I remind, you have a very different kind of fight you should be focusing on.”

“What makes you think they aren’t one in the same?” Alex stands, and even bracing herself on the edge of the table nearly loses her balance. “Yup, time to go home.”

Kara looks up, intending to wave over their bartender to assist, but Maggie arrives at Alex’s side that very second unprompted. 

Unsurprising, honestly. While Kara never looked away from the scene herself to check, she’s willing to bet that Maggie had been watching since the very beginning, her own side arm cocked and ready to intervene if need be.

“Whoa there,” Maggie tuts, dark head of hair swooping smoothly in under Alex‘s arm to support her. “Looks like it’s time to take someone to bed. “

Alex’s cheeks turn bright red and Kara takes a moment to reveal her sister's embarrassment. Her suspicions that her sister might also like women, were completely confirmed the day Maggie walked into the saloon looking for a job. Alex was struck completely dumb, and Nia had to talk with Maggie instead. Even now Alex only manages to mumble a shakey, “Thank you,” as they lope along out the door together.

Thinking about her own interactions earlier with a certain railroad heiress earlier, Kara can relate.

  
  


*-*-*

The rest of the night goes well enough. Things winding down as the horizon turns pink, Kara relinquishes command of the table to Nia once more. 

She walks out the doors and stretches her arms in the sky. The street is empty for the most part now and this is how Kara likes it best. The town is a blank canvas the day hasn’t painted upon yet, full of possibilities.

Grabbing the saddle on Henry’s back, something catches her eye. Candlelight from from a store front down the way. The one next to the General store actually... 

Trouble comes in threes, Kara knows this, she just didn’t realize the third instigator would be herself. Yet here she is, walking directly towards the Luthor Rails office, drawn to the light like a moth to a flame. 

Feet carry her by their own accord and she’s nearly upon the door before she stops. There is a good likelihood Ms. Luthor will ask why Kara is there, and Kara most definitely does not have an answer.

Maybe, she’ll say she was just checking in. Yes. Good. It is an odd time of day for someone to be up after all, and Kara is just making sure the town’s newest resident is settling in all right. Like any responsible citizen would. 

She inches closer and notices some things do actually appear a bit off. For one thing, the door to the railroad office is wide open. Secondly, is the weird panting noise, like someone trying to catch their breath? Kara is about to simply walk in the side, when she hears, “So... Close. “

The words slip out as a soft moan, one that zip like lightning, striking further below the belt then Kara was ready for. She stops in her tracks just beyond the doorway to the side, frozen. 

She should absolutely positively leave. Right now. But then there's another groan, followed by a _gasp..._ and then a full on crash. Kara rushes inside instinctually, years of running towards chaos propelling her forward.

The scene before her is a peculiar one. There, Kara finds Ms. Luthor is lying in a heap at the foot of a small step ladder, an oversized box of heavy looking books overturned beside her. 

The woman seems a bit dazed, or maybe it’s just Kara’s sudden appearance out of nowhere, but it takes the woman a moment of staring bewildered before responding. “Hello.”

Brows are pulled down in confusion, but it’s Ms. Luthor’s lips I have most caught Kara’s attention. The gentle bow of them stretching into a bemused smile is captivating on its own, but the idea that Kara may have been the one to put it there almost is too much to hope for.

Suddenly she realizes that she hasn’t said a word since appearing. 

“Hello.“ Kara chirps. Then, feeling the need to elaborate, “I was walking by and I heard a crash. Thought maybe somebody might be hurt.“

“Only my ego I’m afraid,” The heiress says, rolling her eyes. “I may have underestimated the task at hand. “

She moves to get up and on instinct Kara steps closer to assist. “Here let me help,” she says, offering a hand.

Ms. Luthor debates for a moment, before taking it. “Thank you. “ She leverages herself up to stand but her leg wobbles weak underneath her. Kara scoops in, other arm sliding around the curve of her waist to catch her.

Their bodies slide together, clicking into place smoothly like a key in a lock. Like they were made to do so. Ms. Luthor’s breath catches in surprise matching Kara’s own, And they stay that way for just a breath longer before taking a step apart once more.

She clears her throat. “Thank you, Deputy. “

“Deputy?” Kara asks.

The striking eyebrows knit together once more in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I assumed… “ Ms. Luthor’s eyes travel to Kara’s lapels, as if searching for a badge, but then start to slowly wander over the rest of her. “Something in the way you hold yourself I guess… “

Kara’s cheeks heat under the scrutiny. “Well you’re not wrong,” she crosses her arms, suddenly I’m sure what to do with them. “I was a Marshall for 10 years.”

“A Marshall,” She teases, coy expression hinting at a kind of wicked that is wrong in all the right ways. “ ‘ _But_ , _you’re a woman_.’ “

Kara hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels. “Yes, well, _‘That is accurate’,_ ” she parrots back their earlier interaction and is rewarded with a little smile of amusement from her companion. 

“I’m surprised they let a woman be a Marshall,” she hums, absently touching the corner of the table next to them. “There are many that find women unsuitable for positions of power. “ 

The mood shifts, and that veil of detachment slides back over. “Well,” she says, letting her eyes sweep over them mess below them. “I best get to cleaning this up, I suppose. Thank you for checking on me.”

“I can help.” Kara's quick response literally raising an eyebrow, prompts her to add, “If you’d like, of course. “

“I would. Thank you.” They stand there facing each other a moment. “Let’s get all these back in the box. “

“Right.“ Kara says, then, realizing it should be followed by some sort of action, bends down to start to do just that. Lena follows suit, and soon they're working in quiet tandem, gathering the books and placing them away.

In the reprieve, Kara sneaks little glances, taking the time to notice the little things. The way the heiress’ jaw is tight, even this small task is getting her full concentration. How despite her posh feminine trappings, she keeps her nails short, like a working farm hand (or an engineer) might. Ms. Luthor has also taken off her petticoat jacket so now, in just her blouse, so Kara can also better assess the gentle curves of her-

-shoulders. Kara clears her throat and side steps away from that line of thought. “So what are these books about anyway?” She crouches down, after a few items slid under furniture.

“My journals,” Ms. Luthor says from somewhere overhead. “After college I went to work in the engineering department for Luthor Rails. These are my notes over the years.”

“You kept notes on how everything worked?” Kara sets down on her hands and knees to crawl to better reach the ones under the table. 

“I kept notes on how things could be better. How I could make them better.”

Kara stops. “Wait, all of these are your _ideas_? Lena, you’re incredib-“ Kara moves to crawl back out and speak more directly, but when she turns she finds herself face-to-face, the other woman. 

“Oh,” Lena’s lips part in surprise, and Kara can’t help glance down at them. Looking back up, it’s clear Lena’s tracked the motion, cheeks blushing an attractive rosy hue. 

“So, those are your, uh... your ideas,” And there go her words again, slowly slipping away from her she desperately tries to think of anything but just how close they are to each other right now. How _intimate_.

“Yes. Ideas,” Lena mumbles, looking at Kara with that same surprised openness as when Kara said she was a Marshal. “And plans. Calculations. Blueprints. I just…” she blinks. “You think I’m incredible?”

Maybe it’s the proximity but Lena looks different in this moment. She looks not delicate. Hanging on for Kara’s reply rather than demanding it. A layer of that veneer of poise, removed.

“Yes,” Kara breathes, and this is bad. She feels her eyes being pulled heavily to more than just Lena’s lips, and her thoughts straying to less than proper places as well. 

Being a woman wasn’t the only thing about Kara that’d brought her trouble in her past life, and if she wanted to succeed in this new one, some things just weren’t options for her anymore. 

So it’s with that in mind that Kara does what she least wants to, and backs out from under the table. Backs away from whatever this moment was.

Lena follows suit, crawling out to stand and the moment indeed is gone. Some of the levity’s chased away the Railroad tycoon’s expression, cemented back into professionalism once more. She still holds the stray book they both chased under the table against her like a talisman, and with job complete a vacuum threatens to settle in the room.

Perhaps familiar with Kara’s track record with words, Lena is the first to rush to fill it. “When our parents died, they left Lex in charge. When he heard about the Silver rush, he left me in charge back East, to come out here and explore. And now it’s just me.”

“Now it’s just you.” There’s a lot there but Kara can’t help but pick up the stumble over _‘left me’._

“I studied engineering in college,” She stands a bit taller as she says it, almost bracing for the challenge. “I have a lot of ideas on how to make the company better. For everyone that’s in it.” 

“I see that,” Kara nods to the box of journals. She knows exactly what it’s like to feel I need to prove you’re different. “I can’t wait to hear about them.”

And she’s looking at Kara again, like she’s still just not sure what to make of her. It’s been a long time since Kara has found herself under such intense scrutiny. “Want me to help place that box up now?”

“Oh. Yes. These up there, if you could.” While one hand points to the high shelf, the other places the last book on top of the pile in the box. Kara looks at the long fingers splayed over red leather binding, a final indulgent moment before stepping forward and hefting it up. 

It’s heavy, but no heavier than the bales of hay she used to toss and stack on the farm growing up. She ascends the three steps of the ladder and shucks it neatly into place on the top shelf, 

Coming back down, she steps to Lena’s side, both stare up at her handiwork. “What are you gonna do if you need to get something out of there though? “

“I guess I’ll have to call on some assistance again,” Lena says, turning towards Kara. “You never told me who I should be asking for though.”

Kara can’t help but grin. “Kara Zorel.” She tips her hat, “At your service.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” Lena raises an eyebrow, and something about the gesture (paired with a hopeful bordering on delusional interpretation of the words) makes Kara realize if she doesn’t leave right exactly now, she’s going to end up doing something rash.

“I work just down the street if you need anything,” Kara says. She starts backing up and stumbles into the small box next to the door. “Whoops,” she turns and finds her way out properly, giving one last look over her shoulder before, “Have a good evening. Day. “

She’s already out the door when Lena‘s “You too, _Marshal_ ,” trails behind her. This time the nickname doesn’t bother her a bit.

Outside, dawn is breaking in earnest, warm rays casting westbound shadows. As the rest of the world stirs, Kara is reluctant to wake her own dream. 

Henry gives her a sideways glance when Kara kicks up into her saddle, but withholds further judgment as they head home.

Tombstone is a fresh start, a time to rise and move away from her past, but Kara can already feel herself falling back into who she was. Lena is beautiful, intelligent, and exactly the kind of person that could be Kara’s undoing. She’s fallen hard and fast for others in the past, with disastrous results. 

Yet what’s the point of a life without love?

She may never know God, but she knows Fate, and some things are inevitable. Like lightning after a roll of thunder. 

Her house is due east and she pulls down the brim of her hat to shade the light. As Kara trots into the sunrise, she looks forward unphased to what this next part of her adventure fate holds for her.

  
  
  
  


*-*-*-*-*

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is only a beginning.  
> No I do not (at this time) have any plans on continuing it.  
> (Yes, that'll probably change at some point)  
> (No, not in the next few months unfortunately)
> 
> And yes, you ABSOLUTELY should watch the movie (it's great!)
> 
> Hope y'all liked it and feel free to drop by tumblr and yell with me about stuff (especially 90's movies apparently lol). spicycheeser.tumblr.com


End file.
